Sins of The Past
by Zelevas
Summary: What happens when a god feels remorse? Timeline jumping and body hopping apparently. (Please note that Sebille and Loshe are mentioned, not directly interacted with)


**{{Apologies for the shit prose and some lack of detail in certain places, my mind was wandering during this and hitting several blocks at times so it's kind of a mess. In my opinion anyway. All that aside, enjoy reading and if you have any suggestions as to how I can improve this story, let me know}}**

Dramen watched as the city of Arx writhed in a sea of orange flames, its grand spires and bustling squares now reduced to raging infernos of death and destruction. Places that had once seemed so secure and safe, hopeful and opportune, had become maelstroms of desolation and sorrow from which no living being could hope to escape.

Adramahlihk had seen to that.

By blockading land, sea, and air with his demonic army-a veritable horde of inhuman horrors-the Divine of Darkness had effectively sealed the cities fate. It didn't matter where its inhabitants ran, how much they fought, or how prepared they were, in the end the horde would wear them down. When that was done... well...

He didn't want to think about that. Not again, anyway. The Divine of Light had seen too much death as it was, both on his path to divinity and during the wars that followed. Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but remember everything that had brought him to this point. To watching a city burn to the ground while he stood safe and sound aboard the Lady Vengeance, which was currently anchored a few miles off the coast. Far from the fiery devastation being wrought by Adramahlihk's demonic swarm as it swept through Rivellon like a ravenous tide, consuming everything in its path.

What made it even worse was the fact that all of this was ultimately his fault. He had been the one obsessed with restoring balance to a world rapidly descending into madness. _He _had been the one to make the deal with the devil that doomed Rivellon and her people to their current fate, in spite of his companion's warnings.

His companions... those brave souls and fellow Godwoken who had stood with him through thick and thin, good and bad, all throughout their arduous journey to ascend. Those men and women who had, in the end, set aside their desire to claim their destinies as appointed by their gods and let him rise instead. Having faith that the one they followed would rule with a just and righteous hand, only to watch as he betrayed them all to share power with a malicious creature birthed from the pits of hell itself. That had been the worst part. Seeing their pain filled looks of shame and disappointment, Loshe's especially, as the demon he'd chosen to rule alongside was the very same one that had tormented her so.

All of this, however, was nothing compared to the look of pure disgust that marred Sebille's soft face, twisting it into an unfamiliar visage of pure hatred and disdain. She'd been the one he'd grown closest to over the course of their travels. The one person in their ragtag group that gave him the inspiration he needed to keep pushing forward, despite all the challenges they faced. And to see her, the woman he loved, look at him as though he were kind of monster broke him in more ways than one. So much so that when she had demanded an explanation, a reason as to _why _he'd made the choice he had, he found his eyes unable to meet hers and his mouth clamped shut. After everything he'd done, and everything they'd been through together, how could he explain it? What reason could he possibly have given to justify his actions, his choices?

Not a logically sufficient one, that was for sure.

Granted, he hadn't had time to ponder it for very long. Adramahlihk had begun to grow bored, a dangerous state given his newfound power, and ended them all with nothing more than a wave of his hand, stating that the time for talk was over and that it was high time they got to fulfilling their new roles. There were many things Dramen had felt in that moment. Grief, loss, sorrow. But above all else he felt a crushing sense of remorse. A feeling that mingled with his growing realization at the true consequences of his actions in the most sickening way possible, making him want to empty the contents of his stomach right then and there. Yet he didn't. Couldn't. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it.

_'Or do I?'_

That had been the question he'd asked himself repeatedly after these events. For most people the answer would have been a resounding yes, yet for him the matter was a bit more complicated. Being an accomplished mage for most of his adult life, Dramen was used to exploring new branches of magic and had, as a result, ended up discovering a school of magic that had been considered lost to the ages. Chronomancy. Otherwise known as time magic, this school is rarely tapped into by even the most skilled of individuals in this present era, and usually produces the most minor of effects. Effects such as Fanes odd ability to warp time within a small area to gain a leg up over his foes. So, his curiosity piqued, Dramen delved into all the tomes he could find, drawing upon his vast reservoir of Source to help quicken his search as Adramahlihk had started to grow more and more ambitious with his conquests. Upon acquiring the knowledge he sought-which turned out to be far more versatile than he had originally anticipated-the first thing Dramen thought to do was change the past, but he soon realized that no matter how much one may wish it the past cannot be changed. So he began looking for other solutions, eventually coming up with a plan that just might work if executed correctly.

Dramen, via his studies in Chronomancy, had discovered the existence of other timelines. Alternate realities where things could or had unfolded differently due those inhabiting them making different choices. It took years, but he eventually found a timeline so similar to his own it was practically identical save for one major difference...

Everything that had happened here, hadn't happened there.

Not yet anyway.

So he decided that if he could not change his own past, he would change his other selves future and achieve an atonement of sorts for his actions in this timeline. Thus he set to work, gradually coming up with a complex ritual combining what he had learned of time magic with his skill in manipulating Source, that would let him transfer his soul, his everything, over to this alternate version of himself. He would be overwriting the poor bastard in his entirety, yes, but he'd also be giving himself a chance at redemption. A chance to get things right. Something not many people got in this life. When the ritual was finally fleshed out, and the proper materials gathered, Dramen had retreated to the Lady Vengeance to prepare everything when his dark opposite had laid siege to Arx, giving him pause. Maybe it was the memories, mixed as they were, or the fact that just a few months prior he'd been there walking amongst its people. Seeing their lives and interactions, mannerisms and customs, just to watch it all come to an end like this... all because of him...

It was a hard pill to swallow to say the least.

Turning away from the devastation unfolding before him, Dramen made his way below decks to the mid-section of the ship where the area for his ritual awaited, carved out to the specifications he had set by the ship itself. Moving towards the rooms center where a spherical symbol was etched into the floor, its shallow lines filled to the brim with liquid Source, he began chanting while focusing all his efforts on channeling the Source within himself towards his soul. He had to ensure nothing important was lost along the way after all, and a shield of Source was the best way of going about that. Pausing a moment to make sure he was still locked onto the proper timeline, Dramen resumed chanting a few seconds later, quickly becoming lightheaded before promptly passing out as a bright glow engulfed the room...

* * *

Awakening after what seemed like an eternity of slumber, Dramen found himself in another body, although it was so similar to his own he could hardly tell the difference. It was so close actually, that if it were not for the marked change in environment he would have thought himself still in his original vessel. Taking a moment to examine himself Dramen found, much to his expectations, that he was dressed in the garb of a mystic of sorts. Which made sense honestly. During his investigations he had found this version of himself to be quite skilled in communicating with spirits from beyond the mortal plane, thus why he'd made the choice he did. After all, if this version of himself had been a noble and was found in a trance like state, questions would be asked by family and outsiders alike, making his mission that much harder. But since this version of him was likely to be seen communing with spirits on a daily basis, it made the whole transition _much _easier.

Or at least it would have. For the moment the former Divine of Light examined his surroundings he realized that his jump into a new body had been more tumultuous than he'd originally anticipated. The buildings around him had been shattered, their walls blown inwards, and the limp forms of people were strewn all around the area. Whether they were dead or just unconscious, however, he couldn't say. Spinning around as he surveyed the damage, Dramen took a few steps back as he began to piece together exactly what had happened. Sometime during the jump, the Source he was shielding himself with must have reacted violently somehow, causing a physical wave of explosive feedback to lash out at the surrounding area. A major problem as a massive outpouring of Source meant...

Dramen spun around as he heard the baying of hounds off in the distance.

Magisters.

"Damn it..." he muttered, looking about uncertainly. He had to find a place to hide, to escape...

He took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to calm himself. This was how he had been captured in his timeline, so it stood to reason that things would be similar here. Hopefully. If everything went well, he would be captured, collared, and thrown aboard a ship bound for Fort Joy. If not then he hoped he was executed regardless of how painful it was. Anything was better than being purged, or worse, being turned into a Shrieker. Keeping his hands by his sides, the Godwoken watched as several hounds crested a nearby hill, followed by their red and gold clad masters who were armed with an assortment of lethal weapons. Smirking slightly as they moved in, their shouts becoming louder and more fervent, the last thing Dramen felt was the cold metal of a collar being snapped around his neck as the pommel of a mace was driven into the side of his skull, sending him spiraling into the inky depths of unconsciousness...


End file.
